


Place for Crows to Rest

by Writerwithagoal



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - No Magic, But He Gets Better, Doctor!Merlin, Football Player!Arthur Pendragon, M/M, Song fic, happy older couple, marbles by amazing devil, merlin and Arthur looking back over their fifty year relationship, minor character injury, no pandemic no covid no sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerwithagoal/pseuds/Writerwithagoal
Summary: Arthur is on his way home from the Grocer when he's hit by a car in the car park. Merlin waits for his husband to wake up from surgery replaying moments of their fifty-year long relationship. Mainly just fluff and happiness
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Place for Crows to Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickassfu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassfu/gifts).



> Belated Christmas gift to the beautiful, talented, amazing Maf. Find her here and on tumblr at @kickassfu. I hope that this brings you joy and warmth. (I have a different fic for your birthday next year in the works also around this song).

Merlin sat down next to the hospital bed, his cane against his thigh as he took Arthur’s hand in his. Arthur had been hit by a car in the motor park, thankfully, but at 75 years, it had sent the once sturdy man fly across the gravel. The doctors thought that he’d fractured his hip and, after careful consideration, had decided that a hip replacement was the best course of action. Merlin had spent the last three hours waiting until he’d be allowed to hold his love’s hand again. The nurse smiled at him and quietly closed the curtain around them. Smiling down at the love of his life, Merlin thought back on the life that they’d lived together. They’d gotten together in 1969. Merlin had just turned twenty-two, and Arthur had been twenty-four.

In 1969 Arthur had been a rising footy star, leading Arsenal to several champion wins and working hard at perfecting his game. Merlin had been a trainee doctor undergoing his foundational programming as he worked on passing his boards. Working at the Royal London Hospital, by all rights, their paths should have never intersected. Yet in the spring of 1969, Merlin’s friends and coworkers had snagged tickets to a Chelsea/Arsenal match and Merlin had no reason to skip it. Being the only neutral party attending between Gwenaviere, who was a Chelsea fan, and Lancelot who was rabid about Arsenal. Sitting in the stadium watching the match take place, Merlin had been struck by how handsome the striker was. When Gwen would ask him years later what about Arthur caught his eye, he’d have to be honest and admit it was how he had filled in his uniform.

While being out wasn’t popular, being gay was no longer illegal by 1969. Merlin had spent the early parts of his life being taught by his mother and grandfather not to ever out himself. It would destroy his chances of becoming a prominent doctor in London. Merlin had honestly never given it much thought until at twenty-two, he found himself besotted with the Arsenal Striker.

Leaning forward in his chair, he smiled down at his husband and life partner, of fifty-one years, smoothing Arthur’s hair back. He thought of what had led them to this point. If someone had asked a closeted Merlin fifty years ago that he would meet the love of his life at a football match, he would have laughed at them. Yet somehow, two men from entirely different worlds had done just that, falling in love amidst the smoke-filled rooms, the glittering lights of pub rock shows, and late-night rotational nights.

“It’s our fifty-first anniversary this weekend, and you have me spending it in a bloody hospital waiting room,” Merlin chuckled, tears in his eyes as he sighed, knowing Arthur was most likely going to be sleeping for another few hours. “Percy and Gwen are quite cross with us for ruining the surprise party that they’d planned to celebrate it. When you said you wanted to get out of our children’s celebration of our love, this is not what I thought you meant.”

Squeezing Arthur’s hand, Merlin leaned back in the chair and sighed happily. “Remember that time after you retired from playing professionally that you helped Percy paint our kitchen lime green because he thought it was the best color ever? I thought we were going to divorce then and there.”

Over the decades, the two of them had gotten into many silly arguments. Coming from different backgrounds, it hadn’t been until they had moved in with each other in 1979 that they’d realized just how different they indeed were. Arthur’s family was wealthy, like dukedom wealthy, while Merlin was (and still is) as working class as they come. When Merlin had shown Arthur his flat in Whitechapel that still had mold from the 19th century growing in the walls, Arthur had panicked and begged Merlin to move in with him right then and there. Apparently, the asbestos in the kitchen next to where Merlin made his beans and toast was too much for his rugged footballer’s delicate sensitivities.

It had taken a decade for them to move in with each other because it had taken them a decade to realize they loved each other. This was a decade of one-night stands and late-night chats passing a cig back and forth in the allies behind shite pubs somewhere between Merlin’s flat in Whitechapel and Arthur’s apartment in Highbury East. Merlin devoted to his career as a family doctor, and Arthur being named captain of Arsenal from 1970-79 before giving a younger player the captainship.

“Remember that time that the drunks in the A&E kept calling me darling? You threatened to come and beat them up for me,” Merlin said, leaning over to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “Don’t you ever scare me like this again, you Clotpole. We’re going to make it another fifty years.” Merlin

“It’s Mr. Clotpole to you,” came the strained tone of Arthur’s voice. Struggling to sit up, he looked at Merlin, who still had some tears in his eyes. “Merlin, why are you crying?”

Laughing, Merlin shook his head and just wiped the tears away from his eyes. “I know the surgery went the way it was supposed to, but I was scared you keep my marbles safe Mr. Clotpole! What would I do if I lost you? Imagine me a sexy grandpa going back into the modern gay dating world.”

“Please, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” Arthur said, smiling at his husband's antics, “though you would rock the dating scene.” Sitting up slowly, Arthur looked around for some water and smiled when Merlin handed him the glass with a straw. Taking a few big gulps of water Arthur just looked at Merlin, who was reading his chart now that Arthur was conscious. “Are they taking good care of me?”

“I mean, I’m not thrilled that they gave you fentanyl and have you on opioids right now but I’ll monitor it for you,” Merlin said, putting the chart back down on the hook at the end of the bed. “God, remember the last time we went out before having children?”

“Yea you got us thrown out because you were drunk,” Arthur chuckled, intertwining his fingers with Merlin’s when he got closer.

“I was not drunk!” Merlin snapped, pulling his chair closer to the edge of Arthur’s bedside so they could comfortably hold hands.

“Dearheart you are an absolutely rubbish liar, then and now,” Arthur murmured leaning over just enough to steal a kiss from Merlin’s lips. “Thankfully, you buy me enough scotch that I don’t mind.”

“I’m telling Percy that you orchestrated the accident to get out of the party,” Merlin said, eyes glinting as he used his free hand to pull his phone from his coat pocket. Arthur’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head frantically.

“So you’ll stop teasing me?” Merlin asked, sticking out his lower lip petulantly. For a man who’d just turned 73, it was far too attractive, Arthur thought.

“Only if you don’t tell our two terrifying adult children such a stupid lie,” Arthur conceded, placing a soft kiss on Merlin’s fingers which were still intertwined with his. “How Percy believes your awful lies, I’ll never know.”

Merlin chuckled and texted the family group chat that Arthur was awake and the procedure had gone well. Leaning forward just enough to kiss his stubborn husband of fifty-one years on the cheek, he then repositioned himself in the hospital chair. “He believes me because I lie so infrequently that if he can’t see me or hear me, he assumes it is true.”

“Morgana wanted you to know that she is going to paint your toenails hot pink next time you do something stupid like getting in an accident in a car park,” Merlin said, smiling at the mention of their fourteen-year-old granddaughter.

“Are we sure she isn’t actually a small clone of her great-aunt?” Arthur asked, grimacing at how similar that threat was to any his sister would have made. Maybe Gwen had chosen correctly when she’d named her only daughter after her aunt.

“Yes, we’re sure, but you’ve been so busy with the boys lately teaching them football that Morgana has been hanging out with me and your sister more and more,” Merlin admitted, laughing at the furrow in Arthurs brow.

“Well, I mean Gwaine and Lance are going into training for their University teams soon. I forgot to include Morgana,” Arthur admitted frowning, looking down at their joined hands. “I’m a shite granddad aren’t I?”

“No, you just love playing football and since you were asked to stop playing in the gentleman’s league, you’ve been a bit anxious about it,” Merlin said, waving away any guilt that Arthur might still be feeling.

Arthur muttered something under his breath and rolled his eyes. “Fair but I should have included Morgana. She’s an absolute stellar goalie.”

Merlin snorted at that statement and quickly let himself devolve into a complete laughing fit. Only his husband would think that asking a fourteen-year-old girl to play goalie for her brother and uncle was the way to solve this issue. Composing himself as the actual surgeon came into the room, Merlin smiled at the young man.

“Surgery went better than we’d hoped it would, still bedrest for the next two weeks and then physical therapy. I’m sure that your husband here can prescribe your physical therapy. I will see you in three months for a post-op check-up, and don’t be afraid to call if you have any questions or concerns,” the Surgeon said, looking from Arthur to Merlin who just nodded looking at his former intern.

“See Merlin, nothing to worry about, Mordred did an excellent job and I’ll be back on my feet with a new hip in three weeks,” Arthur said, smiling at his surgeon.

“Mordred has certainly turned out to be quite the surgeon you are correct,” Merlin said, squeezing Arthur’s hand tightly. “If you think that you’re getting back on a field in three weeks, I’ll hit you with my own car.”

Mordred and Arthur laughed before Mordred politely made his excuses and left the room. Looking at Arthur, Merlin felt his throat tighten as the anxiety that he’d been feeling in his heart failed to have a place to go now that they’d received the good report from the surgeon.

“Hey, don’t cry. Your eyes aren’t there for weeping,” Arthur said, hastily sitting up enough that he could pull his husband into his arms on the bed mindful of his injury. “They’re just places for crows to rest their feet.”

Merlin crumbled into Arthur’s embrace sobbing against the still broad chest of his husband. “You scared me you dollaphead.”

“I’m so so sorry darling, scaring you is the last thing I ever want to do,” Arthur admitted, snorting slightly at Merlin’s use of an insult that he’d introduced to Arthur in 1970. “I’m so so lucky to be able to rest my head on your shoulder and know that we’re in this crazy adventure together.”

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't beta read because I am tired, and working quickly to get this gift out to my amazing dearheart Maf.  
> Like, Comment, and share. Tell me your favourite part of this fic.


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